


Wander

by LainellaFay



Series: The Crossover Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Crossover, Hogwarts, I have plans to make a plot you just cannot see it yet, I just want Kakashi in Hogwarts, Multi, Not A Fix-It, Timeline What Timeline, me messing with the timeline, plot may have just started
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LainellaFay/pseuds/LainellaFay
Summary: Kakashi's arrival in Hogwarts is unconventional and unintentional by all means.(Drabble fic)





	1. Hermione

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I wrote anything. I dug this up from the depths of my computer and decided to post it since I was in a Kakashi-crossover mood. 
> 
> Please do not expect frequent updates as real life is kicking me in the ass and I really, really do not have time for almost anything, really. 
> 
> I do have plans for a plot, you just cannot see it yet.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

_He’s there again_ , Hermione muses as she chews on her blueberry muffin. The man of her attention sits at the front of the Great Hall, alongside her professors and Headmaster. He’s situated at the far left, right at the edge, in front of the Slytherin table. He wears a black mask covering the entire bottom half of his face, and an unusual headband slanted over his forehead, covering his left eye. His hair, a rare colour— _silver!_ Hermione had thought he was an old man, like Dumbledore, until she took a double take and saw the youthfulness in the small exposed part of his face—defies gravity, held up by his headband, standing high above his head, tilting a little to the side. He doesn’t wear a robe like the rest of the wizards, instead taking a more muggle approach.

He’s…strange, to say the least, and Hermione’s not merely regarding his appearance.

The weirdest part about him is that she never sees him anywhere else in the castle, apart from meal times. If Hermione is to take a bet, she’ll bet that if he were able to, they wouldn’t even see him there either. Strange fellow, really.

As though noticing her stare, he blinks languidly and looks back at her, pinpointing her amongst the hundreds of students eating in the Great Hall, with a dead gaze in his eye. Hermione flushes and shifts her gaze instantly, hiding her face behind her bushy hair. She takes another bite of her muffin and waits for a few minutes before returning her attention to the man. He’s stopped looking at her and is instead reading the orange paperback she’s seen him reading plenty a times in the past month he started showing up during their mealtimes.

That’s the most curious past.

No one seems to know where he came from—she’d asked Professor McGonagall, and even Professor Snape, though the man merely _tsk_ ed at her and deducted ten House points from Gryffindor for asking ‘ _pointless questions’_ , his words. She hasn’t yet gone up to Professor Dumbledore, she hasn’t been able to get a one-on-one audience with him, not even Harry has this year, but she thinks only _he_ would know. Nothing goes by the Headmaster’s notice in his school.

Hermione is startled out of her thoughts by Ron, who starts bugging her about Charms homework and Potions with the Slytherins. She takes one last peek at the masked man before turning to her friend. Curious.


	2. Hagrid

The strange silent fella’ Dumbledore’s brought in stands at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid blinks, stumbling over his own feet as he jerks to a stop. The half-giant wonders what the scrawny little thing wants with the Forbidden Forest, he dares hope he doesn’t intend to enter; why, he’d be chewed up in a second! Hagrid carefully, not gracefully, lumbers up to the fella’, clearing his throat roughly.

“A little early for a morning walk,” Hagrid says in greeting. The man side-eyes him and looks away, into the forest. Used to similarly cold manners, when born and raised in a racist society, Hagrid carries on, “Yer’ don’t wan’a go in there, fella’. Dangerous. Worse when the sun’s down.”

The man stares at the forest for a good few seconds before shrugging, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. He looks at Hagrid, his one eye accessing, like Moody’s crazy one—Hagrid supresses a shiver. The half-giant doesn’t know what the fella’ had gathered from his assessment but the man only nods at him and retreats towards the castle, his strides as silent as himself. Hagrid watches the slouch of his back, as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, as he walks away. The half-giant shakes his head and moves on, putting the strange silent fella’ at the back of his head, continuing on with his tasks.

When he returns to his hut however, Hagrid is faced with the man again. This time, Hagrid nearly face plants as he trips over his feet. He rights himself quickly and grumbles under his breath, brushing his hands down his tunic and pants. Excuse his shock, but this was probably the most Hagrid’s seen the fella’ in one day since he’s arrived to the castle, with the excuses Dumbledore recites which no one really believes but dare not question to explain his presence. The man’s standing in front of Fang, head tilted as he takes in Hagrid’s dog.

Fang is—Fang is _docile_.

Hagrid blinks rapidly. He rubs his eyes with his hands to ensure he isn’t dreaming, and yup, he isn’t. This is reality. Fang is looking at a stranger and isn’t growling or trying to be menacing when he’s a little old coward of a dog. Huh.

Hagrid coughs the thoughts out of his head. “Name’s Fang.” The man looks at him, and nods, returning his attention to Fang. “Yer’—yer’ can, uh, touch him, yer’ know. Friendly,” Hagrid says, looking at Fang and trying to converse to his dog with his eyes. _Don’t bite the fella’, I’m trusting yer’._

Hagrid’s fear is misplaced, however, as the man shakes his head, hands lost in the depths of his pockets. It is Fang on the other hand who appears to be dejected, whining in protest. Hagrid would concur, if he isn’t so shocked, as who’d reject the offer to pet a dog?

"He’s not scary, just big. Plenty stupid,” Hagrid tries to appeal for Fang. He thinks he sees a smile in the man’s eye, a curve so sharp and Hagrid wonders if his lips hidden under the mask matches it.

About ready to comfort his dog from the continuous rejection, Dumbledore’s guest drops to a squat, faster than Hagrid’s eye could see. Rubbing his eyes, because he has to be fatigue to not be able to see another human _move_ , Hagrid swears he hears the strange fella’s voice for the first time, something about a puck and jealousy. When he blinks into focus, there is nothing but air at the fella’s spot and Fang nosing the ground where he stood.

Huh.


	3. Draco

Draco Malfoy’s had a bad day. An abominable, Salazar-awful, damnable day.

That disgusting _mudblood!_ How dare she stand up against him! How he wished she, _they_ —the whole lot of them—didn’t exist.

Always about bloody Harry Potter. On and on, everyone would preach about their lord and saviour Harry bleeding Potter. What a load of bullcrap!

He stomps about in the Slytherin common room, levitating books and things and sending them crashing into each other, creating a world of destruction. It is a complete accident that he saw him, the spectre.

The moonlight tend to penetrate the dark waters of the lake engulfing the dungeons, otherwise known as the Slytherin common room. If it weren’t for the reflection on the windows looking out into the deep lake, Draco wouldn’t have noticed the spectre at all.

A spectre, a man dressed in black yet had hair colour that shone in the dark. Draco thinks he’s the stranger even his father had no intel about, the one who popped out of nowhere and occasionally sat on the staff table in the Great Hall despite not being a member of the staff at all. 

Interestingly, he’s standing upside down on the ceiling, comfortable and aloof. 

_What the--_

What magic is that?

 

* * *

 

Kakashi watches as the boy in green throws a tantrum unbefitting of his age. In _his_ world, children the boy’s age are not treated as children anymore. They are _shinobi_ , bringers of death and carnage.

 _This world_ —this world is strange. Students are taught tricks that makes even Naruto’s childhood pranks deadly. There is a blanket of fear over the adults, whispers in the dark, a name they refuse to utter—yet they do not prepare their children for war.

Strange. Is this the peace Kakashi—no, _Konoha_ —is fighting for?

Kakashi closes his eye. He came here because they were green.

But they were nothing like Gai at all.


	4. Homesick

Kakashi detests this place.

He never wanted to be a teacher, he’s a failure of a genius and everyone who cares about him dies. ( _Not Gai, not yet, but he will,_ the treacherous voice in his mind laughs.)

He never wanted to be a teacher but he misses his team.

The red of Gryffindor reminds him of Sakura’s impractical dress.

He turns to the Hufflepuff table and the yellow is obnoxious like his only knucklehead ninja.

The blue of Ravenclaw brings forth a boy so obsessed with revenge he doesn’t see the comrades he abandoned.

Kakashi sees the muddle of red, yellow, blue and green and thinks of himself being spat out from his new dojutsu into this _place_ and thinks of his team, his family, separated in his homeland.

He never wanted to be a teacher but he misses them so much he feels _sick_.


	5. Chamber of Secrets Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, remember how I said you cannot see the plot yet? You may see it now. Or not. Who knows!
> 
> You can probably tell how bad quality these chapters are. They are unbeta'd and unedited. I'm sorry. I will probably need to go through them from the beginning one day when I finalise the plot because (WARNING) there _will_ be plot holes, major or minor, there will be some. I apologise in advance. 
> 
> I'm just writing this to satisfy my own craving for Kakashi in Hogwarts.

* * *

 

 

_“The Chamber Of Secrets had been opened.  
Enemies of the heir, beware.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Kakashi slips into the shadows as he is wont to do in unfamiliar— _hostile_ —land. The old man watching him had rushed away in billowing capes, summoned by screams that echoed like thunder and a wisp-like doe.

The halls are agitated.

The ninja feels it strongly, more sensitive to negative emotions—fear, danger, killing intent. Kakashi sticks to the walls, following the old man’s scent down the stairs, past the dining area, into a usually quiet corridor now bustling with activity.

It strikes him immediately. The strong stench of blood.

Students are screaming, others wail as they clutch onto their friends, gripping tightly onto fabric, knuckles white. Kakashi swiftly jumps onto the ceiling, crouched low as he sneaks towards the center of the commotion. The old man and the other teachers are circling three lost, stammering students. Their eyes are wide open, their pupils shaking as they mouth the words painted on the wall.

What catches Kakashi’s attention are not the words, for he does not understand what they mean, but rather that it was written in blood. _Murder?_ _Unlikely,_ Kakashi analyses, but if it were true, he would not mind meeting the killer. A phantom capable of trespassing these grounds and getting away with killing a student when Kakashi himself was noticed had to have a clue for Kakashi to return home.

Back to Konoha.

Kakashi grits his teeth under his mask, materialising beside the old man— _Headmaster Dumbledore_ —his sandaled feet landing atop the water. _Why is there water._ No one, not even the old man nor the teachers, is able to react. It takes them exactly two seconds to register his presence.

Funny how they think sending death glares at him serves as a threat when he could have slayed the entirety of them where they stood, none the wiser.

The old man _‘tsks’_ under his breath and moves to grab his wrist, like a shackle, but Kakashi has trained his whole life as a ninja and a man so slow can do nothing to chain him. He dodges and appears before the letters, startling the three red ducklings who were under the scrutiny of the board of teachers and fellow students.

Kakashi nearly chuckled at how they backpedalled in unison, away from him, towards the safety of their teachers. _Cute_ , futile actions if he were really after them, but they reminded him of those he lost _, his._

Leaning forwards, Kakashi sniffs at the dripping blood, memorising the scent, noting another mixed with it. He’s no ninja dog, but the Hatake clan was famous for their sensitive sense of smell back in the past.

“Everyone back to their dormitories!” Headmaster Dumbledore booms, “Hagrid, Poppy, watch over them.” The cluster move as one, many throwing terrified glances over their shoulders as they are herded out of the corridor. When the three before him move to leave as well, the old man stops them. “Not you, Harry. And friends.”

One of the ducklings moans and Kakashi chuckles. It is definitely no situation to be laughing, but Kakashi has seen and lived through worse, though the rest took offense. The members of the staff bristles and one even hisses at him. Kakashi ignores them, gliding across the painted message, stopping before a mounted lamp on the wall where a cat hung.

“Mrs. Norris! _No!_ ” The wail comes from the caretaker, generally ill-tempered and bitter from Kakashi’s observations. He’s just come onto the scene, presumably drawn by the flow of students who were just evacuated. “What’s going on here? My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” He’s a ball of rage, storming before Kakashi, eyes swivelling and landing on Harry and friends. Seemingly deciding whom to accuse, Filch settles on the most suspicious—Kakashi. “You! _You!_ You’ve murdered my cat! I’ll kill you! I’ll _kill_ —”

“Enough!” Dumbledore interrupts. “Come with me, Argus. You, too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger.” There is a message in the old man’s eyes that indicated the order related to Kakashi as well.

They follow, leaving the ominous words behind. Not to be mistaken, Kakashi did not follow the old man because of the order, there is no one else but the Hokage of the village he pledged to serve who could give him an order. Rather, Kakashi is interested in the case, as self-serving as his reasons are.

Despite not being called, a stern, sharp faced woman and a man with greasy black hair dog his footsteps, their eyes on him burning a hole through Kakashi’s back. He does not overlook the sticks they hold aimed firmly at his body.

Kakashi does not understand this world he has landed in but he is not stupid. He’s a shinobi and he does his research thoroughly; those sticks release light they call _spells_ , he’d be a fool not to avoid finding himself in the line of one such _spell_.

He contemplates whether he should _shunshin_ himself to the old man’s office but decided not to as he figured they were already twitchy and suspicious of him enough.

Kakashi does not fault them.

They have every right to be suspicious. He is no friend nor ally of theirs.

Kakashi does not trust them either.


	6. Chamber of Secrets Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited.
> 
> What even is going on at this point lol. 
> 
> Shameless plugging but I have previously uploaded a fic so please check it out: [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793383/chapters/46860754)

“Mrs Norris is alive, Argus.” Old man Dumbledore says with a sigh, slumping down onto his ornate chair behind the massive desk. “She’s just immobilised, like the students.”

“What students?” One of the pipsqueaks pipes up, curious. Kakashi slinks to a corner, lazy slouch in place; his fingers twitch for his beloved book. To read or not to read, that is the question.

Kakashi does what he does best, flipping the orange paperback open right down the middle. His relaxes his demeanour further, seemingly sinking into the stone walls, like a puddle of harmless goo. He pushes blood up to his cheeks and adopts a sleazy eye smile, a giggle carefully constructed ‘escapes’ his mouth.

It’s not the first time he behaved in this manner in this world, but the disgruntled and scandalised expressions on the two teachers never cease to amuse him. The gaping mouths of the ducklings onto add to his amusement.

“But sir! This man is _hateful_ —” Filch persists in his argument, all spits and hisses, a bony finger pointing in Kakashi’s direction. 

“Enough, Argus. This conversation is over. There are more pressing matters, are there not?” Dumbledore hums. “Like students misbehaving for one instance.”

“Of course sir, but Mrs Norris—”

“Mrs Norris will be fine. Poppy will take care of her. Off you go, Argus. I have things to discuss with Mr Potter and his friends.”

Filch all but stomps on his way out, voicing a final threat at the ninja, “I _know_ you’re behind all this. Just you wait. I’ll catch you, I will.”

Kakashi merely bids him farewell with his trademark infuriating eye-smile that had even Ibiki on the verge of cracking his head open with his bare hands—not that he’d ever get the _chance_ , but the thought was there. The effect on Filch is infinitely critical, however the man can do nothing more but turn red in anger as the mechanism on the gargoyle statue clicked and began to lead him out of the headmaster’s office. 

“Professor Dumbledore, what students?”

The old man waits for the gargoyle to spin Filch away before sighing, looking every bit smaller and wearier in his high chair. The students flinch and cast wary glances at each other, but two of them, the bushy haired girl and unfashionable glasses boy, stand firm—either out of foolish bravery or stubbornness Kakashi doesn’t know; he only remembers Naruto laughing in the middle of the training ground yelling for a fair fight. That knucklehead.

The red house students’ leader—Professor McGonagall, right, that was her name—takes it as her cue to voice her opinion. “It’s none of your concern, Mr Potter.”

“With all due respect, Professor McGonagall,” the bushy haired girl says, chin tilted up in confidence, “I believe we have the right to know what’s going on. If there’s danger in the school, us students should be informed so that we can take precautions for our own safety, is it not?”

She’s not wrong, Kakashi assesses, but judging by his view of this world and the irrational coddling of their students, _she is_.

 _His_ students had faced an S-ranked missing-nin and his equally dangerous apprentice at their age and do you see Konoha up in arms? Well, perhaps there _was_ a bit of a fuss—his students being the fox-container and the last Uchiha but it was a mission and accidents happen. Everyone survived, albeit _barely,_ if it weren’t for the kind heart of Haku, and his students became stronger for it. He’d foolishly believed after that day that their bonds had strengthened to unbreakable but since when was Kakashi an expert in human relationships?

“There is _no_ danger in Hogwarts,” the professor replies curtly.

Kakashi giggles.

The professor—the broody, greasy one—tightens his grip on his wand and stalks towards the ninja. “What, is so hilarious?”

Kakashi adopts a look of curiosity, as though asking, _who me?_ Snape narrows his eyes, an bone-chilling glare flies through the short distance between them. “Well…if you _must_ know. There’s this scene,” Kakashi answers, jabbing a finger at the pages. He’s memorised the book after the second read, the page he’s on _does_ indeed have an intriguing scene involving some nudity and jelly-filled doughnuts. He’d laughed the first time, completely taken by surprise by Jiraiya’s writing. “Although…” he pauses for dramatic effect, side-eyeing the students, “I’m not sure it’s age-appropriate, my dear professor.”

“I have no interest in your bleeding _book_ ,” Snape all but growls, “ _you_ find the situation hilarious. Give me _one_ reason why I ought not to—” 

“Severus!”

The man snaps his mouth shut midsentence. Though not one to back down so easily, Snape curls his fingers and steps away. He’d not realised how close he had gotten to the stranger, who only seemed to be smugger than ever. There are millions of variables and the white-haired man is a puzzle Snape cannot seem to unlock.

He’s dangerous.

Kakashi watches with bemusement as the professor gathers his thoughts. Shaken, so easily, with barely a nudge—to think this is the old man’s greatest spy!

“Are we in danger then, sir?” the spectacled one, Mr. Potter, asks. He’s a little self-centred with his words, emphasising on _we_ , rather than the school as a whole. He reminds Kakashi a bit of Sasuke, minus the whole revenge goal and bloody backstory, but like the little avenger who simply thinks that no one else suffered as much as themselves.

_‘Why don’t I kill the one you love the most? Then you’ll know how I feel!’_

_‘You can try, but they’ve all already been killed,’ Kakashi had said with a cheerful smile._

_Fake. Liar. Coward. There is still one more._

Kakashi is a horrible person and a terrible teacher. It’s no wonder why he lost all of his students to others who are more capable of helping them reach their goals, regardless of the ulterior motive on Orochimaru’s part.

“Professor McGonagall is right, young Harry,” the old man replies, “there is no danger to the school. We have this under control.”

“But—”

“What were you three doing in that corridor?”

The young ones falter at the sudden question.

“Is that necessary?” Kakashi intervenes. It is uncharacteristic of him and he is aware that it will bring further suspicions to himself, but those kids are not prepared for this. Kakashi will find them later and interrogate them, _himself_. “You give them a castle for a school and not expect children to get lost?”

“They’re not _first_ years—”

“It’s a _magical_ ,” Kakashi has to physically restrain himself from looking like he ate a lemon at the word, “castle.”

“Yes! Mr, um—” the bushy haired girl looks around the room but no one fills in the blanks, “he’s right! We were heading towards the Great Hall and we must have made the wrong turn at some point. It wasn’t us, sir, I swear.” There is no subtlety in her words nor actions; openly nudging her friends to keep silence whenever they tried to speak.

No one is convinced but Dumbledore stares straight at her, as though searching for truths in her eyes. “I will believe you have had no hand in this, Miss Granger, but I must take ten points _each_ from Gryffindor for not being where you should have been. No, Mr. Potter, if you feel wronged, try memorising the map next time. Furthermore, I _will_ not be as gracious if I catch any of you investigating this. There is no danger in Hogwarts. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” the three says sullenly.

“Now, off you go. Everyone is under curfew so head directly to your dormitories. Minerva, I trust you to see them there.”

“Of course,” the woman replies. She opens her arms and starts to usher the students out of the old man’s office, but not without a firm gaze in Kakashi’s direction. “Come along now, children.”

A red light flashes towards Kakashi the instant they leave the office. The shinobi ducks and rolls across the floor, stopping in a crouch, his left hand gripping three kunais between his fingers.

“Severus!”

“He’s a threat,” the man merely replies, casting another spell at Kakashi, who simply dodges. “And all threats must be neutralised, sir.”

Kakashi sends a kunai flying through the air after he dodges the fourth spell, aiming for the man’s ridiculously impractical cloak to pin his arm against the wall. In retaliation, Snape conjures up a shield to block it, causing his kunai to bounce harmlessly off it and onto the ground.

Before either of them could continue, the room’s temperature plunges to the negatives, locking up their muscles and causing them to freeze, literally and figuratively. Kakashi immediately focuses his chakra towards the centre of his body and spreads it out, feeling warmth tingling under his skin. It’s no situation Kakashi cannot free himself from, but being locked up by your opponent for even a split second can cause death. Kakashi had never felt more helpless trapped in Zabuza’s water on his team’s first C-rank turned A-rank.

There was no light in this trap. Nothing Kakashi could dodge.

These wizards, they may be more fearsome than Kakashi had previously imagined.

“Calm down,” Dumbledore says. There is no wand in his hand but the temperature goes back to normal with a wave of his arm. Kakashi imprints that into his mind. “Mr Hatake has a solid alibi. Myself.”

Kakashi smirks under his mask, snatching the fallen kunai and tucking his weapons back into his pouch before adopting the previous persona he had taken up; a pervert reading an obnoxious orange book with a bolded restricted 18 on the back cover.

Snape brushes the dust off of his cloak and clicks his tongue at the headmaster’s nonchalance. “We don’t know what he’s capable of. Getting rid of him is the safest option. For everyone." 

Kakashi lets out another giggle, turning a page in his book. _Please, line up. You’re not the only one wishing for my death._

It’s sad, honestly, at how there is at least five nations back home that have his name on their priority list to kill on sight. 

“You just find him annoying,” Dumbledore replies.

Well, that hurt. A little.

 _“Professor_ —”

“I will handle this. I want you to make sure every student is in a pair at all times. No one is to be alone until we find out who is responsible. We do _not_ need a repeat of 1943.”

“I hope you will not regret stopping me, Professor.”

Dumbledore looks at Kakashi, a twinkle appearing in his eye. The shinobi meets the stare calmly. They’ve been in this position before, no one really quite wins. Kakashi smiles with his eye, breaking the stare off.

“So..." he drawls, "mind telling me what happened in 1943?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moaning Myrtle. She happened.


End file.
